Moments
by ToothFairy
Summary: TonyMichelle. One scene between each season. Chapter 1 is Michelle's POV, chapter 2 is Tony's... COMPLETE!
1. Michelle

_One of my favorite things about 24 has always been that we've only seen a few whole days out of these people's lives, and what happens in between those days is more or less entirely up to our imagination. With this fic, I set out to write one short __TM scene between each season. This chapter is from Michelle's POV, the next one (which I will hopefully be able to post next week since it's about 90 finished) will be from Tony's._

_You might want to bear in mind that these scenes were not meant to be key moments in the TM relationship (and by key moments I mean the day they met, the day they got married, the day Tony came home from prison, ect); they are just moments out of their every day routine during that particular period of their life. I don't think anyone's ever attempted to write something like this before, so I hope it'll go over well… Feel free to post your thoughts!_

**Day 1 – Day 2**

She entered the bullpen, interestedly looking through the files Clark had just dumped on her. She was headed in the general direction of her station, her nose still in the stuck in the files, when she suddenly started as she realized she was about to crash into someone. She looked up, startled, to find the familiar, dark eyes of Tony Almeida.

"Hey," she said reflexively.

He muttered something that might have been a greeting back or might have not, and then quickly brushed past her. She sighed, telling herself not to feel disappointed.

She should have been used to this kind of behavior from him by now. In the first few weeks she'd worked at CTU it had been pretty much all she'd gotten, and she would have concluded he just couldn't stand her for some reason if not for the fact that his eyes always seemed to linger on her a second longer than necessary.

But lately he seemed to have softened a little, even attempted the most basic forms of small talk. And as much as she hated to admit it, she had been smitten by his attention, blushing and smiling far more often than she should have.

She sighed again. She should have known it was too good to last.

"Don't take it personally," a gruff, almost-teasing voice came from behind her, and she turned to see the CTU director, George Mason. "He just got back from testifying at Nina Myers' trial. You know about Nina Myers, don't you?"

His eyes searched her and she nodded, almost in awe.

George continued with a snort, "Well, I should probably hang a memo in the break room to leave him alone if you wanna go home tonight with your head still on your body."

She smiled a little at Mason's sense of humor. "Thanks for the warning."

He grinned and squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, no problem. Just think of me as your guardian angel."

He winked at her and moved forward.

She went back to work at her station, trying to keep her mind on her duties but finding it often drifting off. She wanted so badly for him to confide in her, as ridiculous and childish it sound even to her own ears. She wanted to be the one help him learn to trust again, and if they happened to end up together in the process she wouldn't be too upset about that either.

_Oh God,_ she thought, _What are you, sixteen?_

She snuck another glance at him, watching him determinedly working on his computer, his face a mask of grimness. She considered going up to him and just asking if he was okay.

_Yeah, and what do you think he's gonna do?_ she berated herself, _pour his heart out? He's just gonna give you one of those looks and snap that he's fine._

Still, she wanted to somehow let him know that she was there for him, without being too obvious of course.

Five minutes later, she got up and headed for the break room. She poured two cups of coffee – one with milk and sugar in a regular CTU cup, and one black in the all too familiar Cubs mug (she told herself not to dwell on the fact that he would obviously realize she knew how he liked his coffee).

She hesitated as she re-entered the bullpen, a little apprehensive of his reaction. But then she told herself to suck it up and determinedly made her way to his station. She carefully placed the mug in front of him without saying a word, and he turned away from his computer and looked up at her in surprise.

Her heart pounded in her chest, half expecting him to snap that if he wanted coffee he could get his own damn coffee. But he just reached for the mug and mumbled a quiet but clear, "Thanks."

She let out a breath she hadn't even been consciously aware of holding and she felt a little silly at her own relief. She smiled. "You're welcome."

She turned back towards her own station, blushing when she saw George staring at her with his eyebrows raised.

**Day 2 – Day 3**

She started awake at the obnoxious sound of the alarm clock and reached out an arm to shut it off before falling back against her pillow for just a minute more of peace. She was just about to check if it had awoken Tony when a strong arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Don't go in," he mumbled into her neck and she laughed a little in her semi-consciousness.

"I have to," she told him, running her nails gently up and down his arm, "You have the day off, somebody has to do your dirty work."

"Chappelle will do it," he insisted sleepily.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. Chappelle will make sure _I _do it."

She waited a moment longer before untangling herself from his embrace, despite his grumpy protests.

"Tony," she laughed, pushing his groping hands back under the covers, "go back to sleep. I'll call you when I get the chance."

She hopped in the shower, blow-dried her hair and then went back into the bedroom to pick out an outfit. She took care to be quiet until she noticed that the bed was still messy and lumpy but he was no longer in it.

"I thought you were planning on sleeping in today," she commented as she entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later.

He turned away from the toaster to look at her and shrugged. "Eh… I was up anyway."

She sat down at the counter and reached for the coffee pot, shaking her head at the sight of him standing there in nothing but a pair of navy boxer shorts.

She had never understood his sleeping patterns as they were so very different from her own. She knew that if she were to strip down to her underwear and crawl back into bed at this very moment, she would probably be out again in less than ten minutes, despite her shower, despite the coffee. He, on the other hand, was up for the rest of the day once he had awoken, and ready for some action from the moment he set foot out of bed.

"What do you want on your toast?" he asked, already opening the fridge.

She looked up from the article she was engrossed in. "Oh… just some jelly."

A few minutes later he placed a piece of ready-made toast with jelly in front of her, and she smiled wryly. "Honey thank you, but I _can_ handle toast."

He smirked at her. "Yeah, well… I didn't wanna risk it," he countered, taking a seat across from her and buttering up is own piece.

She rolled her eyes and decided to let him get away with it. She could never win that one anyway.

"So any plans for today?" she asked him and he shrugged, mischief already present in his eyes.

"Not really. Just… y'know, watch a little TV, take a nap, watch some more TV, take another nap…"

She raised her eyebrow at him, trying to hide her amusement. "You _could_ do something useful, y'know."

"Uh huh." He swallowed down his last piece of toast, slid off his stool and kissed the tip of her nose as he passed her. "You're cute, you know that?"

And she couldn't help but laugh.

She headed for the bedroom to brush her teeth and found him dumping the dishes in the sink when she returned. She snuck up behind him and leaned against his bare back, letting her hands run up his stomach to his chest as her chin came to rest on his shoulder.

"What about to tonight?" she whispered, "Any plans for tonight?"

He laughed. "You bet."

"Good." She pinched his belly and pressed a kiss against his shoulder. "I'll see you tonight."

**Day 3 – Day 4**

Michelle sighed and shut her laptop closed, anxious to get home though to what she wasn't entirely sure. Seattle wasn't home, not by a long shot – but then again, neither was LA, at least not anymore, not without him.

She was pulling on her jacket when there was a knock on the door of her office, and she looked up to find a young woman who worked here at Homeland but whose name escaped her at the moment.

"Michelle?" the girl said hesitantly, taking a step inside. "I'm sorry, I accidentally knocked this over. It was it the break room, Mr. Buchanan said it was yours…"

She held out the remains of what Michelle instantly recognized as Tony's Cubs mug. She felt a sharp stab of pain in her heart and she stared at the girl's open hands.

"I'm really sorry," the girl repeated, catching on to Michelle's distress. "I- I'll pay for a new one. If you could just tell me where I can find one, I don't know anything about baseball so I wouldn't know-"

"It's okay," Michelle gasped, taking the three broken pieces of china out of the girl's hand. "Don't worry about it, just…" She put the pieces down on her desk carefully. "Just go now. Please."

This only seemed to make the girl feel even guiltier. "Michelle, I… Please, just tell me how I can-"

"You can't."

The words came out surprisingly calm considering the battle she was fighting with herself to stay in control. She turned her back to the girl, wanting her face to be hidden as she spoke her next words. She swallowed and willed her lips to stop trembling. "It was my husband's."

Many seconds passed in silence, and Michelle finally turned around to find the girl looking horrified with disbelief and guilt. Everyone in the office knew about Michelle Dessler's husband. Everyone in America knew.

"It's okay," Michelle said quietly, her voice even but monotonous. "It's okay…" _Oh, God, what was her name?_ "Go on home now. It's been a long day."

The girl lowered her eyes and then slowly turned around and walked out of the office, her shoulders slumped.

Michelle watched her disappear, her eyes focussing on the last lost spot the girl had been before moving out of sight for an almost unhealthy amount of time before she finally turned and stared at the broken pieces still lying where she had placed them on her desk.

Tears suddenly came out of nowhere, and she clasped her hand over her mouth to stop a desperate sob from escaping her.

Tony's Cubs mug. Such a silly object, and yet at the same time so despairingly meaningful. She had always hated the damn thing, but after he was arrested she had started using it at CTU, and when she got transferred she didn't think twice about taking it with her to use for coffee at her new office.

And now it was in pieces. Just like Tony himself.

_I'll get him a new one,_ she thought desperately, _He won't even know the difference._

And she realized he probably wouldn't, if he ever saw got to see it. He had never been particularly attached to the mugs – it was just imperative he had one. She remembered early on in their relationship she had thought he would raise hell when her cleaning lady accidentally broke his then mug by knocking it over with her broom, but incidentally he had been much more worried about getting the coffee stain out of the carpet and getting a new mug as soon as possible.

She was the one who had gotten attached to the stupid thing over the last few months, ever since he was arrested – for the simple reason that it had been his.

And this new Cubs mug that she had every intention of buying, would never be his. At least not for a very long time.

**Day 4 – Day 5**

"What's the problem?" she asked softly, running her hand down the back of his head to his neck.

He was sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, his laptop balanced on his lap. He had been working with a grim expression for almost an hour now, and Michelle knew there was something he wasn't pleased about concerning their company.

He grunted. "Nothing, I just can't seem to make this add up," was his vague response. He gestured a bunch of figures on the screen with his hand.

"Want me to take a look at it?" she offered, knowing she would be shot down. He took his responsibility towards their private security company so seriously, and wouldn't let her help him with anything they had agreed beforehand he would take care of.

She sighed when he shook his head, knowing that at least part of this need to establish himself was to prove to her that he _had_ changed, that he _could_ handle responsibilities and deadlines. And she trusted him implicitly when it came to all that, but couldn't seem to get this through to him.

She finished up with the dinner dishes and then checked the clock, noting that it was already well past eleven.

She sat down next to him on the couch and leaned into his body. "It's getting late," she told him gently, brushing a kiss against the side of his head. "Come to bed with me?"

He nodded and reached out a hand to pat her thigh without removing his eyes from the screen. "Uh huh, in a minute."

She relented, knowing it would not be a good idea to push him now, and headed up the stairs.

Ten minutes later he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth while she was taking a shower. She didn't know if he had solved the problem or had simply given it up for the day, but she found herself not really caring either way as long as he stopped fretting about it long enough to come to bed.

Her heart sank when she stepped into the bedroom to find him in bed sitting up against the headboard in his boxers, the laptop still in his lap and him still keying away determinedly. She crawled in next to him and reached for the book resting on her bedside table, figuring he might as well get some reading done.

After a while her eyelids were starting to droop and she turned look at him, silently pleading with him to just put the laptop away. But he seemed focussed as ever, his jaw set in self-discipline and determination.

She placed the book back on the nightstand and scooted closer to him, rubbing her hand slowly across his bare chest. "Don't stay up too late, okay?" she said softly, "It'll sort itself out."

As a response he turned his head slightly in her direction, kissing her forehead tenderly. "Night, sweetheart."

She smiled. "Night."

She turned off her light and closed her eyes, trying to get some sleep though she had a feeling she would be awake as long as he was.

He had half a mind to beg him to let it rest but she knew that would only make things worse, cause him to snap at her and retreat back into the living room. So instead she tried to get her plea across by keeping close contact with him physically. She rested her hand on his leg or kept their feet entwined, anything to wordlessly remind him she was there.

She was just about to break and all but implore him to come to bed when she heard the familiar sounds of the computer being shut down. She felt her whole body relax as he bent over to slide the laptop underneath the bed.

She rolled over and reached out an arm to him as he made himself comfortable against the pillows. She started to say something but he wrapped her up into his embrace and interrupted her with a gentle "Sshh". He kissed her shoulder and then her neck, whispering, "Go to sleep."

And she sighed happily, finding his hand and linking it with her own. She decided she would try to get her point across to him tomorrow – how as long as he tried and did his best, he could never disappoint her.


	2. Tony

_Hey guys, here's Tony's POV, hope you enjoy... And thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 1!_

**Day 1 – Day 2**

She was late.

She was never late – always perfectly on time, sitting at her station, impeccably dressed, sipping coffee and smiling a shy good morning at him by the time he entered the bullpen. He hadn't realized how he had gotten used to this sight in the six months she'd been working at CTU. Hadn't realized she was always the first thing his eyes searched for, and how much he unconsciously looked forward to seeing her every day.

He felt a strange tingle of unease creep up the back of his neck now that she wasn't there.

He shrugged it off and made his way over to his own station. He turned on his computer, inwardly groaning at the amount of work-related emails he had received since yesterday evening. He procrastinated having to deal with them by heading for the break room for a much needed cup of coffee.

When he got back from his station, there was still no sign of her. Sighing, he reluctantly sorted through the emails, cursing the stupidity of mankind several times in the process. He caught himself throwing regular glances at her desk, just to check if she had arrived yet.

_Stop it_, he warned himself.

But it was an urge he couldn't resist, despite his best efforts. He was perfectly aware of the fact that if it were anyone else he probably wouldn't even realize they were missing, and this only infuriated him more. He fidgeted in his chair, squashing the desire to call Mason's extension and ask him if she had called in sick. He came dangerously close to actually doing it again a few minutes later, but stopped himself by rationalizing that Mason would see right through him and never let him live it down for the rest of his career at CTU.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, already bored before the day had really begun. He didn't want a slow day _now_, not when he so obviously needed a little distraction and a lot of motivation. Where the hell were terrorist threats when you needed them?

He forced himself back to his emails but his mind stayed on her, against his better judgement. He hated that he couldn't figure out why she intrigued him so much. Sure, she was attractive (if he was honest with himself he knew was more than attractive, she was even more than just beautiful. She was simply… stunning), and she was intelligent, and compassionate, and a lot of fun… But there was something else about her, something he couldn't explain, that just drew him to her, as much as he fought against it.

He froze as a thought struck him. What if she'd been in a car accident? It had rained a little very early in the morning, the roads might still be slippery – what if her tires had slipped? What if she was lying there somewhere, covered in blood, fighting for her life…?

_Oh, for fuck's sake, Almeida!_ he chastised himself. _Get a grip! She did not a have a car accident. And besides, what would you care if she did?_

Except he would care. He would care far too much for just a healthy co-workers/friends relationship, and he knew it.

He was saved from his nasty train of thoughts a few moments later when the doors opened to reveal her hurrying towards her station, looking a somewhat flustered. His first instinct was to grab the phone and ask her straight away what was up, but he again told himself to get a grip and lay off her.

He took the opportunity when she passed his station on her way to the Tech room ten minutes later and offered him small smile and a quiet, "Hey."

"Hey," he greeted her back in what he hoped was a casual way. "So uh… did you oversleep or somethin'?" he joked lightly.

She smiled. "No, um… There was an accident on the freeway and I had to take a whole bunch of detours. I called George but I guess he didn't tell you…"

He shook his head, silently damning Mason for not saving him from his own mental torture.

"Well…" She nervously pushed a loose curl behind her ear as they stared awkwardly at each other. "I'd better get these to Chris."

She indicated the files in her hand and he nodded. "Yeah. See ya later."

Her eyes lingered on his a second longer than they needed to, and she blushed noticeably before quickly turning on her heel. He fought the queasy feeling in his stomach as he watched her hurry away.

**Day 2 – Day 3**

"Alright. Good work, Tony. It's been a long day, I'm sure you're all tired."

He turned slightly to look at Michelle, who was sitting on the couch in his office waiting for him to finish up. Her legs were crossed elegantly, her chin was resting in one hand as she studied the fingernails of her other hand disinterestedly with obviously exhausted eyes.

He turned back to Chappelle on the other end of the line. "Yeah. We are."

The regional director droned on about the proper protocols and information that needed to be worked up as soon as possible over the course of the following days, and Tony, in his desire to just get the phone call over with, had to fight to urge to snap that he had been director for almost two years now and to give him a little credit.

He was extremely relieved to hang up the phone five minutes later, and was just about say something about getting the hell out of here when he saw Michelle had dozed off against his couch, her head still supported by her hand. He felt something tug at his heart and smiled a little in spite of himself.

Wordlessly, he sat himself down next to her, lifting his arm as she sighed and instinctively fell against him. He ran his hand down her back affectionately and let his lips trail over her hair.

"Some day, huh?" he said softly, and she groaned a little in response.

They had been blasted awake by Tony's cell phone at four-thirty on the morning, with orders to get to CTU as fast as they could. Once they'd arrived, they were immediately plagued by one terrorist threat after the other, including a bomb threat in an elementary school and the high-jacking of a civilian aircraft. The mastermind behind these attacks was a former government agent whose two children had lost their lives because of a CIA operation that became personal fifteen years ago. These kind of situations were always difficult; neither Tony nor Michelle could imagine being so consumed by hatred towards the government that they would kill so many innocents just for revenge, but they both knew all too well that these things happened all the time. Far too often than they were both comfortable with.

Luckily, both the Field teams and the people in IT had done exceptional work, resulting in only two civilian casualties (both passengers on the plane) and very few agents killed in the line of duty. The threats had passed an hour before midnight, but it had taken until well past two to debrief everyone who needed debriefing and complete all the paperwork.

By now almost everyone had gone home; downstairs the night shift was already monotonously working up the information with Michelle's precise instructions.

"I got us a day off together next week," Tony told her, hoping to give her enough energy to make it to the car.

She still didn't open her eyes but definitely sounded content when she asked, "What day?"

"Tuesday."

"Mmm." He snuggled further against him and he brushed his lips against her forehead in a feather-light kiss. "I can't wait."

He smiled as his thumb found the smooth skin underneath her shirt. "Yeah, me neither."

They fell into comfortable silence for a moment, until he gently squeezed her hip and said, "Come on. Let's get outta here."

She groaned a little. "Two more minutes."

He chuckled softly. "Now."

She started to protest but he interrupted her by slowly standing up without loosening his grip on her, causing her to also stumble to her feet.

"Okay, okay," she mumbled.

"Don't forget you purse," he instructed as he released her to reach for his own jacket and briefcase.

Seconds later, they were making there way down the stairs. They nodded goodnight to the night shift and as they moved closer towards the exit, Tony couldn't resist wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders and pulling her closer. They had agreed a long time ago that they wouldn't do this at work, at least not where everyone could see them, but after a day like today the rules and their image didn't seem so important, and he could tell be the she subtly leaned against him that she felt the same way.

The doors opened and they headed out into the dark Los Angeles night.

**Day 3 – Day 4**

He wondered how long he had been lying awake. It must have been hours now.

He wondered how many hours he had lay awake since she left him. Since he got home from prison. Since they took him away. Since Jack Bauer had forced him to keep secrets from his wife.

It seemed he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in decades.

Jen shifted next to him and he tensed, not wanting her to wake up and ask what was wrong. He knew he would lash out at her, punish her for not being the person he needed. Sometimes he looked at her and truly hated her for not being Michelle.

_Michelle._

He squeezed his eyes shut as unwelcome memories washed over him at the mere sound of her name in his troubled head. He still remembered her smile, her smell, and how she would cuddle up against him in the middle of the night, warming him from the inside out. He still remembered the glint in her eyes on the day she married him. He still remembered what her voice sounded like when he called her at her station just to ask how she was doing. He still remembered what it felt like to be loved in a way that only she could.

No amount of drinking could take all this away – not that he didn't try.

He hadn't seen her in four months now, since the day she finally broke down, packed her bags and walked away. He went through various stages after she left – at first he was simply stunned, then he went through quite a few different kinds of denial and when that wore off he was consumed by a fury that had coursed through his veins like a monster.

That was weeks ago. Now all he felt was a dull pain, bitterness and regret.

The bottle was still a part of his every-day life, though he had recently started drinking at home instead of out in bars. He felt no shame or embarrassment whatsoever towards Jen, and so he found it easier to just waste away at home rather than have to move himself for it. He knew he was alienating himself even more from the outside world by doing this, but he had little reason to care much. Everything he had lived for was gone now anyway.

He tried to stop Michelle's words from entering his mind, but as usual it was hopeless. It was one of the last things she'd ever said to him, and he just couldn't get the image out of his head – how desperate she had looked, her whole body trembling, tears she had tried to hold back stubbornly making their way down her pale cheeks. The woman he loved more than life itself, falling to pieces on front of his very eyes.

"If you keep going like this, you're gonna get yourself killed!"

He had shrugged it off, laughed it off, the sound hollow and aggressive even to his own ears. "Just go to work," he'd told her harshly, "Don't worry about me."

His chest tightened and he quickly pushed the covers aside and got out of bed, trying to escape his own feeling of restlessness and self-loathing. Without thinking, he scooped up the pair of jeans he'd been wearing yesterday and pulled his wallet out of its back pocket before dropping the jeans back in a heap on the floor.

He slowly made is way into the den and sat down on the couch, flicking on the small lamp beside him. He pulled the photograph out of the secret compartment of his wallet and took his time unfolding it.

It had been taken years ago, on their honeymoon – the only real vacation they'd had the entire time they were married. There had been a free weekend here and there, but a whole week was something they knew they would not be granted again, at least not for a very long time, and they had both been determined to soak up every minute of it.

They were both smiling like idiots in the picture; so obviously, wonderfully, ridiculously happy. His arm was around her shoulders as she leaned against him, and he had just whispered something in her ear, though what he couldn't remember. A lump formed in his throat as he remembered how easily he had once been able to make her laugh.

He studied her beautiful face a few seconds longer before angrily shoving the picture back into his wallet. He took a deep breath and blinked a few times, then slowly got up and monotonously headed towards the fridge for a beer. Fully intending to keep going until he passed out.

**Day 4 – Day 5**

He gently pushed her feet out of his lap and stood up from the couch, tossing his chopsticks into the empty Chinese food carton and holding out a hand until she handed him her leftovers.

"You sure you don't want any more?" he asked her after seeing she hadn't eaten more than two-thirds.

She nodded. "I'm full."

He shrugged and used her chopsticks to the pop a few more mouthfuls of food into his mouth on his way to the kitchen before throwing both cartons in the trash.

He sat back down next to her and pulled her feet back into his lap, rubbing her legs as he said with a grin, "So much for eating healthy from now on, huh?"

She smiled back, closing her eyes in pleasure as his thumb firmly rubbed the sole of her bare foot. "I guess old habits die hard."

Their CTU days had been so full of all kinds of take-out – from Chinese to Indian to Thai to plain old American pizza – that when they left there they had decided to try to pay a little more attention to health and nutrition now that they had the time. This had worked beautifully until they went to work starting up their own private security company now six months ago.

"Wanna go out for coffee and dessert?" he asked, wanting something different than just food, TV and bed.

She opened her eyes to raise her eyebrows at him, and he shrugged. "What? If we're gonna be unhealthy we might as well do it right."

She laughed and started to get up. "Yeah, alright. Let me just get a sweater."

The front door slammed shut behind them five minutes later, and they headed out into the night. They had decided on a small coffee place with incredible cheesecake only a few blocks away, and were both very much enjoying the outing until out of nowhere heavy rain came crashing down from the skies.

They hadn't thought to bring an umbrella and weren't even wearing jackets, so by the time they reached the coffee place they were both soaked to the bone despite having ran for most of the way. Tony was happy for the shelter, but was unpleasantly met with fierce air-conditioning once they stepped inside.

As they settled down at a small table in the corner of the place, he noticed Michelle was already shivering violently as the cool air penetrated her drenched clothing. He cursed inwardly at their bad luck and searched for something he could wrap around her for warmth, finding only his own sweatshirt, which was also soaking wet. He scooted around the circle-shaped table and pulled her chair towards him when he was close enough to reach for it, closing an arm around her shoulders and rubbing some warmth into her.

"Stupid rain," he muttered, still trying to force the shakes out.

She smiled a little before looking up and him, placing a quick kiss to the inside of his neck and shrugging. "It's not so bad."

He looked back at her in surprise. She had always hated the rain; she said made her cloths stick to her body and her hair even more impossible. He was about to ask her what she meant when the waitress arrived, and by the time their order had been placed he had forgotten about the whole thing.

When they stepped back outside forty-five minutes later, it was still raining hard, and he once again cursed the water for taking away the little warmth the hot coffee had brought them. He spent the better part of a minute muttering about it, until she quietly interrupted him with hand against his arm, preventing him from walking any further.

"It was the rain that saved you, y'know."

He looked at her as if she was crazy, not having the faintest idea what she was talking about.

"Curtis Manning told me," she continued softly, "A few days after…"

And suddenly he knew what she meant. It had been raining when he was taken hostage very early on that fatal morning when they said goodbye to Jack by the train-tracks.

They stood there looking at each other for a moment, and he could see the emotion wash over her face despite the still pouring rain. Then he wordlessly reached for her and pulled her in, engulfing her into a warm embrace and resting his mouth against top of her head.

"You're right," he said softly after a moment of just standing there, "It isn't so bad."


End file.
